


The Real Thing

by elliebird



Series: Previously Posted Roswell, New Mexico Fic (2019) [9]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M, POV Outsider, Relationship Reveal, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:20:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22828582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliebird/pseuds/elliebird
Summary: Max checks on Michael the morning after Michael saves Max’s ass from Wyatt Long and his dumbass buddies. He sees more than he’s supposed to.Written for a Tumblr anon who one of their friends walking in on them or anyone of them finding out about Michael and Alex in an interesting way ”
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: Previously Posted Roswell, New Mexico Fic (2019) [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636822
Comments: 15
Kudos: 185





	The Real Thing

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on 02.20.19

Max had a bruise on his jaw, a cut on his cheek and a hell of a hangover. 

Despite an almost desperate desire to spend the day nursing his wounds behind drawn curtains, he was armed with iced coffee, breakfast sandwiches and a couple of bottles of acetone in an attempt at brotherly concern. 

The junkyard was quiet and deserted at ten on a Sunday morning. It wasn’t the ideal place to park a trailer and make a home, but out here the skyline was peaceful, a blend of color that reminded Max how much he loved New Mexico. On mornings like this, with the sky a clear blue and the desert stretching out to the horizon, he could understand why Michael was content to live the way he did. 

He parked his car behind Michael’s truck and hit his horn, giving Michael a heads up in case he hadn’t yet dragged his ass out of bed. His entire body protested as he climbed out of the car. He could handle himself in a fight, but getting jumped when it was four to one was never good odds. His ribs hadn’t been cracked but at the moment it felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to them. 

His knock on the Airstream’s door was greeted with silence. He’d left Michael here after midnight, with a bag of frozen peas for his eye and a genuine _thank you_ for showing up when he did. The door was unlocked. He pushed it open and found the trailer empty. The bed had been slept in and Michael’s blood-stained shirt was on the counter. 

Max shut the door behind him and stepped back out into the sunlight, wincing at the stab of pain between his eyes. Michael had stepped up for him last night, when Wyatt and his buddies had decided jumping a deputy outside the police station was a bright idea. 

Things hadn’t been right between them since high school – since the night Rosa died. But even when things were at their worst between them, Max had always been able to count on Michael having his back when it mattered most. 

He wound his way through the maze of ancient cars with weeds and vines anchoring them to the earth, to the only place he could think of to look. 

The garage might have been a complete, functional building at one point. These days it was mostly two-by-fours nailed together, a makeshift roof for when it inevitably rained, and tarps for when the roof leaked. He rounded the corner and stood in the entry, letting his eyes adjust to the shift in light. 

He heard Michael’s voice before he saw him. 

“Didn’t I let you fuss over me last night?” Max recognized that playful, flirty tone. He’d watched Michael use it to try and sweet talk himself out of a night in jail or another fine for public intoxication and once, to get an FBI agent passing through town into his bed. With the exception of Cam, Max had seen it work on just about every woman, and the occasional guy, in town. 

Max’s vision focused. Michael had his back to him, shirtless in a pair of jeans. He was perched on a stool, and he wasn’t alone. 

“Alex,” Michael tilted his head back with a hiss, allowing the light to hit just right and Max finally made out Alex Manes, standing between Michael’s thighs with a rag in one hand, the other holding Michael still with fingers gripping his chin. 

The last time Max saw Alex was the day they all graduated. At the parade the town threw for him a decade later, Max caught a glimpse of him, beleaguered and unwilling to be hailed a hero, missing a part of his leg and looking like the last ten years had irreparably changed him. 

Watching him now was like seeing a third iteration. His face had softened some and there was a looseness about him that hadn’t been there as he let the town shower him in attention he didn’t appear to want. 

Max hadn’t crossed paths with Alex much in high school - he could count on one hand the number of times they’d spoken - but Max had always had his eyes on Liz, and Alex had never been far behind. 

Max stood immobile with surprise. It was clear, from the way Alex touched Michael that not only did they know each other, they’d known each other for a while. And intimately. 

“Guerin,” Alex said. He tilted Michael’s chin. Even from this distance, Max could see the softness in Alex’s eyes, the emotion. Max had seen that look once before, directed at him before his sister had made Liz forget the way she felt for him. 

Alex cleaned the cut above Michael’s eye, intent like it was imperative he get it right. Michael seemed to be enduring it. 

“Quit hovering,” Michael said, but he sounded fond. Was it fondness? Max had never heard Michael sound like that. “I told you,” he wrapped his fingers around Alex’s wrist, stilling him. He kissed the palm of Alex’s hand. The gesture, affection in it, caught Max off-guard more than seeing Michael with Alex, than the realization that Michael not only had someone, he had someone he _loved_. 

“I’m fine,” Michael said.  
Alex frowned. “You also told me you weren’t going to get into anymore drunken fights.” 

There had been a point in their lives when he and Michael told each other everything. Mostly everything. Maybe. He hadn’t know about this. Why hadn’t he known about this? 

“Yeah well,” Michael hissed as Alex touched him again. “This wasn’t my fight.” 

Alex shifted, leaning against Michael for support. His cane was propped by the door and he braced most of his weight on his good leg. 

Michael said something Max couldn’t make out from where he stood, lurking in the doorway like an idiot. 

Alex leaned in, palming Michael’s face between both hands. “If you stop giving me a hard time about this, I’ll make it up to you,” he said. He leaned in and kissed Michael, a careful, chaste brush of lips that had Michael leaning forward, trying to chase more. 

The longer Max stood there, not saying anything, the more he realized that this wasn’t something new. This wasn’t a fluke. Alex touched Michael like they had a history. He looked at him like Michael was all he saw. 

“Please drink this,” Alex said, “you’re being ridiculous.” He handed Michael a bottle of acetone. 

Max cleared his throat, loudly and awkwardly, and stepped into view. “Morning,” he said gruffly, surprise making him uncomfortable. 

Michael didn’t look at all surprised to see him. Alex tried to take a step back, put some space between himself and Michael but Michael caught him with a hand on his hip, keeping him in place. 

Max set the coffee and bag of food on the table next to Michael. “I brought breakfast. To say thanks for having my back last night.” 

There was a moment of silence, awkward and thick with tension. And then Alex took the bottle of acetone from Michael and pushed it at Max. 

“Guerin said you were worse off. You look like you need this more than he does,” he said and Max saw it for the olive branch that it was, a way to ease the discomfort of having found out that Michael had been keeping this from him. 

“Thanks,” Max said. 

Michael reached for the bag. Max had bought Michael’s favorite, a breakfast burrito from a place downtown that had ridiculous lines on weekends. He took in the bag of food, the bottles of acetone and when he looked at Max, his face said it all. Michael was no good at emotion. His eyes said more than a thank you could have and Max soaked it up, feeling like maybe things could begin to mend between the two of them. 

“Uh, sorry, Alex,” Max said, uncomfortably aware that he’d interrupted something precious. “I didn’t get you a coffee.” The reason for it went unsaid, hanging in the air between them. 

“That’s okay,” Alex said easily, reaching for the iced coffee that was meant for Michael. “Guerin will share.” 

Later, when the coffee was gone and Alex had gone to shower, Max said, “I’m sorry. I know that was something I’m not supposed to know about.” 

Michael had pulled a shirt on. The cut above his eye was swollen and he had a bruise on his cheek. But there was a stillness about him that Max had never seen before. “You found out when I was ready,” Michael said. 

Max froze. “What do you mean?” 

Michael hesitated. He gave Max a long look and then seemed to make a decision. He took a breath, closed his eyes and Max felt a sudden presence, like someone was tugging on a string connected to a memory in the back of his brain. 

_Come on Max_ , Michael said to him, like an echo, _how do you think I knew how to find you last night_? 

Max heard the words like they were being spoken out loud. But Michael had crept inside his head, a quiet, unobtrusive presence. 

_Michael. What - I didn’t know you could do this_. 

Michael was faint, like an apparition, but Max could feel him there. _Neither did I. I’ve been practicing_. 

Max felt it the second Michael cut the connection, stepping out of Max’s thoughts. It was like being doused in a bucket of warm water, a shiver sliding down his spine and a sense that something had shifted. 

“You knew I was here,” Max said. He hadn’t intruded on a moment he wasn’t meant to see. He’d been invited. Like a gift. 

“Like I said,” Michael said, “you found out when I was ready.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I'm on [Tumblr](https://elliebirdthings.tumblr.com)


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